


holding smoke

by starboykeith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coda, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Episode: s02e08 The Blade of Marmora, Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-26 05:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17135840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboykeith/pseuds/starboykeith
Summary: Shiro reflects on his place in Keith's life after what he had seen with the Blade of Marmora.





	holding smoke

**Author's Note:**

> coda for ‘the blade of marmora’ nearly two entire years after season 2 :’)

Being on Red feels like coming home. Too many thoughts hesitate on Shiro’s lips; if Kolivan weren’t here, he might even make an attempt at vocalising his shock, wonder, anxiety – maybe a combination of all three.

Keith had refused his help in changing back into the paladin suit. Shiro had hovered uncertainly beside him, eyes on the deep wound in Keith’s shoulder that looked as though it would scar. It had been difficult not to touch Keith, even with how vulnerable he knew Keith must be feeling; Shiro didn’t want him to feel alone.

Especially not now.

A virtual mindscape reflecting Keith’s greatest hopes and fears, Kolivan had said. Your friend desperately wants to see you, Kolivan had said. Keith had only visualised Shiro. It was a thought Shiro almost doesn’t want to prod at, doesn’t want to pick up and turn over and consider. Could it be possible? Is he Keith’s greatest hope – and his loss Keith’s greatest fear?

He thinks of Keith’s panic when the hologram had walked away, abandoned him like his parents and countless others.

“Then you’ve chosen to be alone,” he hears in his own voice.

And Keith – Keith had chosen _him_. Chosen Shiro over his knife, over his past. It had taken long months of nothing but trust and guidance and believing in Keith no matter what, but Keith had let Shiro in, all that time ago, and now Shiro realises he never lost his place in Keith’s heart.

But Shiro can’t tear his mind away from the hologram. They have a spark burning thick as fire, a connection neither of them could deny. Does Keith see Shiro as just another person who has yet to leave? Someone who would abandon him for making a choice – someone who would taunt him with it?

Keith hadn’t chosen to be alone, but there are very few circumstances in which Shiro would allow that to happen.

He looks at Keith now. His hands are steady, piloting Red toward the Castle. It’s Shiro who speaks over the intercom, one eye on Kolivan at all times. Besides his transmission, they don’t speak. Everything Shiro wants to say cannot be said in front of Kolivan. He isn’t sure he can say it in front of Keith, either, or anywhere outside his own mind.

The rest of the day is busy, co-ordinating with Kolivan and the Blade and figuring out what comes next. Shiro is exhausted, all too ready to collapse into bed. Sleep does not come readily, however, and Shiro finds himself staring at the ceiling.

Galra blood runs through Keith’s veins.

Shiro thinks it ought to disturb him, at least on some subconscious level – that his best friend shares blood with the race that had abducted and tortured him, forced him to fight like a gladiator for survival. All he feels is acceptance. It’s Keith, after all, and Shiro loves Keith more than he cares about his heritage.

He should have spoken to Keith about it today, should have pulled him aside and said, “It’s okay.” He will tomorrow. Or maybe –

A glance to the clock confirms it isn’t too late to catch Keith. Shiro throws on a hoodie and shoves his bare feet into boots before taking off for Keith’s room, the act oddly reminiscent of the Garrison, where Shiro would chase Keith up at all hours of the night depending on which regulation he was flouting.

His previous silence was beginning to haunt him. After what he’d seen – in Keith’s _mind_ , no less – it was inexcusable to let the moment pass unremarked. It’s times like these Shiro is most determined to emphasise what Keith means to him, how wrong the image had seemed. Shiro doesn’t doubt he’ll be haunted by his hologram walking away; he’d never turn his back on Keith, but for the first time, Shiro thinks Keith might not _know_ that.

He knocks twice, two sharp raps. Keith will know it’s him.

Sure enough, it’s only a moment before the door opens, but Keith looks wary.

“Shiro,” he says, but the word aches without the smile that normally accompanies it. Shiro doesn’t like to think about the last time Keith had been wary, watchful, untrusting of him – it feels strange, now, to think there had ever been a time where they had been at odds.

“Keith,” he says. “Can I come in?”

Keith just nods, backing up as Shiro walks forward, and then he folds his arms over his chest, defensive in a way that makes Shiro’s heart hurt.

“I wanted to talk,” Shiro says, “about today.”

“My Galra blood,” Keith says, the sentence infused with more bitterness than had been present when he’d informed the team earlier that day, and Shiro seizes that evidence of their connection as though starving.

“No,” Shiro says, and Keith finally looks at him. “How’s your shoulder?”

Keith’s wearing a T-shirt, obscuring the line of wounded flesh Shiro had watched carve into his skin. “Nothing Coran could do about the scar.” He shrugs, as though it was nothing, as though Shiro wouldn’t do everything in his power to prevent Keith from acquiring any more. “Look,” Keith says, and Shiro’s gaze moves from burning a hole into his shoulder. “Give it to me straight. When Kolivan told me – your face…”

“I was surprised,” Shiro says, and the admission crumbles something in Keith’s expression. It’s a face Shiro would quite happily never have him wear again. “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Keith bites his lip, eyes meeting Shiro’s before darting away again. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you hating me,” he says.

He’s seen the evidence of that, Shiro realises. They can never erase the intimacy of him knowing Keith’s deepest thoughts; it makes Shiro want to offer him something in return.

“Keith,” he says, breath catching, and then, softer, “I could never hate you.”

“Okay,” Keith says, stilted. Shiro hates that this was a doubt in Keith’s mind at all, wishes he could reach in and reassure Keith his deepest fears won’t come to fruition, that his greatest hope is – right here.

He can’t help but remember their Garrison days, with Keith clammed up so tight it took Shiro months to gain his trust, to get more than a few sentences out of him. “Come here,” he says, taking a step forward and trusting Keith to take the other.

Keith obeys, still refusing to meet Shiro’s eyes. He seems shocked when Shiro clasps his shoulder; more surprised still when Shiro draws him in for a hug, Keith’s hands coming up belatedly to hold him even tighter. He feels more than hears Keith’s sigh of relief, an abrupt release from holding his breath.

Shiro crushes him close. “I don’t care that you have Galra blood,” he says. It’s a good place to start.

“The others will,” Keith whispers, sounding small and scared and so very alone, and Shiro wants to tell him he’ll never be alone again.

“Then they’ll have me to reckon with,” Shiro says. He hesitates. “Keith – what you saw – “

“So you saw it,” Keith says, startled, but he holds tighter when Shiro tries to draw away, wanting to see Keith’s expression, see his words hit home. It isn’t much of a sacrifice, Shiro thinks, turning his face against Keith’s hair and inhaling the familiar scent of him.

“Yes,” he says apologetically. It’s an invasion of privacy on the highest level, but part of him hopes that Keith doesn’t mind because it’s _him_ , because Shiro is allowed to see the darkest parts of Keith just as he has helped and held the darkest parts of Shiro. “But – it’s okay. I want you to know that. I’d never stop you following your destiny.”

The puff of Keith’s breath against his neck stops, just for a moment. “I know, Shiro,” he says, but it rings hollow after what they’ve both seen.

“You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” Shiro says, suddenly aware of Keith’s nose against his collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere,” he adds on a whim, and wonders if he’s imagining the way Keith burrows tighter against his neck.

He definitely isn’t imagining Keith’s arms winding around him, and responds in kind, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of Keith’s head, fingers carding through his hair. Touches that are safe. Touches that don’t betray how if Shiro wore that suit, fought through those trials – he’d see Keith, too.

 

* * *

 

The next opportunity they have to talk is, ironically enough, during training.

Shiro focuses on the fight, on the _whoosh_ of air as his prosthetic cuts through it, and decidedly doesn’t focus on the way Keith’s voice has gone rough as he pants for breath.

They give each other one moment, some feet apart but Shiro doesn’t count on the distance – Keith’s fast, faster than him, and given half the chance that can tip the scales of every match they fight. Keith pounces as Shiro knew he would, but as they spar on and on, it only takes one misguided punch to throw Shiro off his game.

In no time at all he’s on his back, Keith heavy on top of him and grinning as he pins Shiro’s wrists.

“I yield,” Shiro says, with a deliberate eye-roll.

“Better get used to this, old-timer,” Keith says, eyes twinkling with mirth and precious shared memories from their Garrison days. It shouldn’t make Shiro’s heart stop whenever Keith talks about it; Keith was there too, but sometimes Shiro wonders if he is the only one whose thoughts still linger there.

“Oh, I have,” Shiro says, testing Keith’s hold and smiling when he can’t break it – not without his prosthetic, anyway. “Always knew you’d leave me in the dust.”

A furrow appears between Keith’s eyebrows as he stares down at Shiro, and then his weight is gone faster than Shiro can blink. Shiro frowns and gets to his feet. Keith’s back is turned, and Shiro places a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t say things like that,” Keith snaps. When he turns, his eyes are full of fire. “Bullshit I’m leaving you behind. You’re coming with me.”

The words wouldn’t make it onto a greeting card, but warm Shiro’s heart nonetheless. “Okay,” he says, placating. The memory of the hologram is little help in deciphering what had set Keith off. Lost in thought, Shiro doesn’t notice as Keith’s anger goes soft and helpless, but when a pointed silence settles between them, he glances up again.

Keith’s anger is infinitely preferable to Keith quiet and hurting. Shiro steps closer, close enough that Keith has to tip his chin up to meet Shiro’s eyes. Shiro feels tiny under that gaze.

“Hey,” he says, almost a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll always need you,” Keith says, painfully vulnerable. Shiro feels honoured all over again that he holds Keith’s trust; feels lucky that Keith’s walls come down around him.

“You’ll always have me,” Shiro returns, pulling Keith into a hug. He feels sweaty and sticky – they both do, actually, more apparent when they’re close like this – but Keith nods against his shoulder and for a moment, everything seems okay.

It occurs to him that this is a reassurance easy enough to make on a regular basis, and so Shiro starts slotting it into conversation. He doesn’t think Keith notices – in fact hopes he doesn’t: all the better for the message to take root in his subconscious.

There’s nothing difficult or embarrassing about telling Keith he’s always here; it’s something he’s had no qualms telling Keith before, even if the sentiment hadn’t quite sunk in.

He thinks, _hopes_ he’s being subtle, but Keith’s eyes hold his longer than necessary; their hands brush too often for it to be accidental; sometimes, Shiro finds Keith’s gaze dipping to his mouth.

It’s a feeling he doesn’t know how to deal with, and so before he leaves with Lance and Pidge, Shiro lets his gaze linger on Keith’s face; there’s nothing to suggest the mission won’t be a success, but still Shiro clasps Keith to him and murmurs that he’ll be back in no time at all.

Keith kisses him when he returns from Beta Traz.

Shiro is too shocked and too stupid to kiss back, so when he opens his eyes to Keith’s nervous expression and twitching fingers, all he can do is kiss him again.

“We should have done this a long time ago,” Shiro says when he can catch his breath. Somehow Keith’s ended up in his lap, arms looped around Shiro’s neck and preventing him from putting more than three inches between their mouths.

“We were too chicken back then,” Keith says. When he leans his forehead against Shiro’s, sharing breath feels more intimate than Shiro’s ever known.

“I’ll always come back to you, Keith,” Shiro says, frowning. He clings tighter to Keith when he shifts, eyes sliding away where his body can’t. “I’ll never leave you again.”

When he’d thought of Keith during that year of fighting, it had been with bittersweet passion. Keith was a bright-burning star, drawing everyone into his orbit. Shiro missed basking in the light he emitted; was jealous of those whose company he kept when Shiro could not. It had not occurred to him that Keith’s star was trying to find its way home.

“I know you won’t leave me, Shiro,” Keith says, shaking his head.

Shiro doesn’t think his heart could feel any more full. To think he had everything he ever wanted; to think Keith feels the same, finally secure in the knowledge Shiro will never abandon him.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Keith presses a finger briefly to his lips, words seeming to hover on his own.

His smile, when Shiro kisses it, is bittersweet. Shiro waits with bated breath.

“I’m scared you’ll be taken away from me.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and you can find me on twitter at twitter.com/starboysheith and tumblr at starboykeith.tumblr.com !


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